


here, there, nowhere

by skai_heda



Series: chaos theory [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, S7 speculation, Sanctum (The 100), Violence, clarke griffin may or may not get her happy ending, josephine is a good friend, simulations, yeah surprising i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23790952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skai_heda/pseuds/skai_heda
Summary: some things don't always go as planned.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: chaos theory [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713874
Comments: 11
Kudos: 70





	here, there, nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> i literally have no idea what the hell happened to russell so he's kind of going to fade out of existence here
> 
> hey!! if you haven't read before, after, between, this probably won't make sense!!

She'll paint it one day. The ocean. The sunset perched atop the horizon like a burning crown.

Clarke only has to wait one more month. One more month, and she'll be complete. 

_A lot can happen in one month._

"Sure," says Finn, drawing idly in the sand with the tip of his shoe, making Clarke realize that she's said it out loud. "But it's government, Clarke. They're gonna have to pull these people out of the simulation at some point."

"I don't remember you being this naive, Finn," she says, rolling her eyes. "They can do whatever they want because they are the government. Besides," she adds, "we don't even know whether we actually volunteered or not. They did erase our memories before putting us into the simulation."

A vague look of sadness appears on his face as he turns to face her. "I know you're going to want to tie up the loose ends, Clarke. And corrupt as some governments may be; they're being honest about this. It's one of the first things I asked about. They have video footage of us signing our contracts, agreeing to this. And as far as I know, they don't control minds or anything. If they did, they'd have the second coming of the American Revolution."

"I didn't know you ever paid attention in Earth History," Clarke scoffs.

"You know, Griffin, I wasn't a total dumbass." She laughs slightly at that, going silent for some time.

"It's all I can think about," she admits. "Everything that could possibly go wrong. And then I feel stupid for thinking that I could do anything about any of that because all the experience I have is just a dream that wasn't my own."

"Hey," he says, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We may not be as scarred here as we were in there, but that doesn't make our suffering any real. Especially not yours, Clarke. Sure, we may have had lives before we went in, but what happened in there—those are our real memories. That's going to be our reality, our experiences, both good and bad. But it's not going to hurt forever. When we come out of there, we don't forget, but we move on. And then we look at the others that came out of that hellhole and we know each other from there, and we keep those memories with us. We learn to love them, even after everything that happened. Hell, Lexa ordered my death in there, and I still go out for lunch with her and her girlfriend sometimes."

"It's weird how now that I don't have to consider the imminent possibility of disaster, I have to face everything else," she says softly. "Besides—I'm not exactly popular among them anymore."

"Well, I don't agree with everything you did," Finn sighs. "But I understand the intention. And I know that the things you did actually saved them, even though you ended up telling me everything as if you were the villain."

"What if I was?" she asks, "and you just like villain stories?"

"You saved humanity," he says simply. "Maybe not in the most orthodox way, but you did it. You may have killed people, but you saved more."

"I killed you," she reminds him.

"I thought we already moved past this, Clarke," he declares, giving her a light shove. "Turns out I am actually not dead, right?"

She smiles slightly, turning to look at the ocean again.

"Hey," he says. "What do you want the most right now? Not long term, but right now. Right here."

Clarke has to consider for a second. "Murphy's cooking."

Finn starts to laugh.

"What?" she asks, trying to suppress a laugh of her own.

"I was expecting you to say Bellamy or Madi or something."

"You told me not to think long term," she says with a small huff of laughter. "But yeah," Clarke adds, sobering. "Them, too."

He glances sideways. "How are you feeling?"

"You know you don't have to ask me that five times every day, Finn."

"Sure, I do."

Clarke snorts, shaking her head. "Better," she murmurs. "A lot better than I did there." And she's being honest about it.

_(worth it if no one will ever hurt me again.)_

"That's good," Finn replies. "That's good."

* * *

**sanctum**

He counts.

He counts the minutes it takes to walk to Sanctum—the faces in the bar.

"Clarke?" Echo asks.

His lips part—he counts his breaths. He needs to shave. 

And he could never tell them the truth, not now, not until it's all over.

"She didn't make it," he says dully. Six steps to a chair. "Clarke's dead."

"No," Murphy says quietly. "No. That's not possible."

Madi descends into the room, her hair left down. "Where's Clarke?"

It's like deja-vu—the truth, the girl collapsing in his arms, crying. Even Echo has tears in her eyes, and Echo never cries. Raven's slumped over a table, her head buried in her arms. 

_Two months,_ he thinks, still holding Madi.

* * *

He begins to count the days. No one asks him about Clarke, and he knows no one will for a long time. As far as they know, he's lost her for the third time—he's lost her too much. If anything, they're worried that he's not showing enough emotion. 

Maybe he has really lost her again.

He dreams of her on that beach, face pale in morning sun. He dreams of her hand resting on his heart, their tears mixing together on her face. The kisses, the wind, the roughness of the sand beneath his feet. Her, as young as she had been before Praimfaya, her skin softer and her hands unscarred. Hair that was still gold, hair that had not quite lost its color the way it did on Earth.

"You wanted to talk?" Echo says quietly, standing in the doorway.

"I want to break up," he says quietly, staring out the window.

"Okay," she replies simply, coming to sit next to him. "Anything else?"

He turns to look at her. "What?"

"We had it coming for a long time, Bellamy," Echo says, taking his hand and examining it. "I'm over it."

"I'm so sorry," he chokes out.

"I know. Me, too." She drops his hand and puts her arm around his shoulders. "I don't really know how far it could've possibly gone, but I knew she meant a lot to you."

"I'm sorry," he says again. "You don't deserve this. Any of it."

"I don't think either of us ever loved each other the way we were supposed to," she admits. "But I still love you, Bellamy. You're one of my best friends. You're family. We can move past it. And either way, I'm here for you—we all are."

"Well, I didn't think you'd be this supportive," he mumbles.

She pulls away. "I don't know if that was an insult or a compliment."

"I'm breaking up with you because I'm in love with a dead woman," he sighs. "Have been. For too long."

"I don't think you'll ever stop loving her," she says softly. "I just wish we both knew that before this happened. Would've saved us both a whole lot of pain."

"I love you," he says.

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that."

Bellamy leans forward, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "I wish she was here," he admits, and Echo nods, knowing nothing of the truth.

"I know," she says. "I wish I could've apologized to her. For everything everyone else said. And for everything else. She—she deserved a whole lot more."

She pulls Bellamy into a hug, one he returns. The feeling of her is not what it used to be back on the Ring, but she still feels warm, still feels familiar. And perhaps, for both of them, it's the end of what they could've had, and the beginning of what they should have. 

It feels almost peaceful.

He counts his breaths.

* * *

He sinks into some sort of stupor as he waits for those crucial two months Becca promised to be over. For once, they were aligning the simulation time with real time, so Clarke would have to wait just as long as him until they could see each other again. Sometimes, it's a mildly comforting thought—sometimes he wishes it was shorter for her, wishes that she would be alone for less time.

He still feels the most gentle touch of jealousy when he thinks about the fact that Lexa is alive in that world—jealousy far beneath him, the feeling of a child. But he always remembers that morning, the taste of her, the sensation of her by his side. Bellamy used to believe that after all that's happened, he could live his life as the happiest man alive if he could only kiss Clarke just once; now, however, even a million eternities could not make up for the lost time.

Bellamy counts his breaths—the hours, the days, the weeks. Society begins to repair itself, everyone else coming down from the Eligius ship, lights rekindled, buildings rebuilt. Everything falls into place, everything except him. The days go by, the weeks bleeding into each other. And he finds himself in a crowded bar a month after his return from the Anomaly. Alone, unbothered, waiting for the night to end, waiting for the next day.

Only one more month.

_A lot can happen in a month._

"Damn right," Murphy mutters, having suddenly materialized beside him. Bellamy realizes he said it out loud.

He looks up to see Gaia walking towards him, her expression one of distress. "Bellamy," she says. "We need to talk."

"Is everything okay?" he asks, following her out of the bar, into the warm, heavy night beyond the door.

"No," Gaia says, turning to face him. "We have a problem."

* * *

She's not quite sure what she's expecting, but it's not her.

"Clarke," Josephine says softly, standing outside her door, with Becca behind her. They both look distressed.

"I—"

"No time," Becca hisses. "Let us in."

Josephine shoots her an apologetic look as they enter the house, with Becca pulling the door shut. 

"What is it?" Clarke asks. There's this horrible, simmering dread in the pit of her stomach. 

"They're keeping the others in the simulation," Josephine whispers.

"Yeah, I know, for one more month—"

"No," Becca says. "They aren't coming out."

The world begins to spin, colors fading in and out of focus. "What?" Clarke asks.

"It's perfectly legal," Josephine states, sitting down. "We signed those stupid fucking agreements. We agreed to whatever amount of time was necessary."

"So what are they going to do?" Clarke asks, bringing her hand to her mouth.

"They're going to keep engineering their possible outcomes," Becca explains. "That was the basis of the whole thing. Assess the global statistics, design outcomes based on what we have, who's in power, geographical factors. They're going to continue to design those issues, sending wave after wave of them to the people within, see how they deal with it. Let natural selection run its due course."

Clarke can taste vomit in the back of her throat. "They can't do that."

"They can," Josephine says. "I tried to find all the loopholes, Clarke. We have no argument to make."

"How do I even know I can trust you?" she asks, unable to look at her for too long.

"You have to," Becca insists, rubbing her temples. "There's nothing I can do about it. After the stunt I pulled with guiding you and Bellamy out of the simulation—I don't have nearly as much access or influence as I used to."

"Do you know what scenario they're inserting into the simulation?" Clarke asks.

"Sanctum was one of many worlds in one star system," Josephine explains. "As far as I know, people from one of the other worlds are coming to take power now that the people in power have been taken out or imprisoned. My mother is dead, and god knows what became of my father."

Clarke exhales shakily. "So what now?"

"We want to put you back in the simulation," Becca murmurs. "Along with Josephine, because she knows exactly what kind of threat they'll be facing in there."

Her heart begins to pound, as she remembers what she said to Bellamy. _I can't go back._

"Do it," Clarke breathes, looking at Becca. "As soon as possible."

* * *

"There are a few things you need to keep in mind," Becca says. She's barely been able to sneak the two of them to the cryo-station. "I'm going to reopen that backdoor. But I can only hold it open for about a week until everyone else notices it and shuts it down. You have one week to get all of your people out. Now, I can't send either of you in there looking like yourselves—if they see Clarke, they'll know what I've done. And Josephine is dead, so she needs a new body anyway."

"They won't recognize us?" Clarke asks.

"Yeah. And that's the issue, seeing as you need to get everyone out in time. If not," Becca adds ominously, "you'll be stuck in there forever."

Clarke takes a minute. Assessing the possibilities, the risks. 

_(worth it if no one will ever hurt me again)_

_(we're cursed.)_

It's not about her. It never had been. A small sorrow.

"Put us in," Clarke breathes.

* * *

**the sanctum border**

"Do we know who they are?" Bellamy asks.

"No," Raven says softly, kneeling by the wooden post impaled to the ground. "Their ship entered the outer atmosphere less than half an hour ago, and no one has descended to the surface as far as we can tell."

_It should be over soon. The simulation had to be ending soon. So why's this happening now?_

"Think they might be a threat?" Gaia asks.

"We have no way of knowing unless they actually come down here," Niylah responds. "But we need to be prepared for the worst."

"Place sentries around the border?" Raven suggests.

"We don't even know what these people are capable of. We could lose good people, assuming whoever or whatever in that ship is looking to hurt us," Gaia counters.

"It would be too much of a risk to not keep people here. If not stop them from an attack, we could delay them long enough to fortify our defenses even more," says Niylah. She looks at Bellamy. "It's your call."

"Get Sanctum on lockdown," Bellamy says. "Engage all the city defenses, and keep guards posted all around. And we have to keep it quiet; we can't send everyone into a panic."

"No one will be able to get in or out," Raven warns.

"Good," he responds, his heart pounding in his chest. He forgets to count the beats. "Initiate the lockdown."

* * *

Clarke's been here before. Been dead here before.

"It's Gabriel's place," Josephine says, in a voice not quite her own. Clarke glances sideways to see a woman with hair in various shades of red, with a sharp nose and a full mouth, with higher, more prominent cheekbones, though her eyes are exactly like Josephine's, brown and calculating. Clarke never imagined she'd be comforted by the sight, but here she is.

"Oh, yeah," Josephine sighs. "Bellamy's never going to recognize you."

"Thank you for the encouragement, Josephine," Clarke mutters, walking out of the small shack. 

"Clarke," she says, catching up to her. "Hey, I—I'm sorry."

She glances sideways. "Okay."

Josephine frowns. "Okay, I deserve that."

"Help us all out of this mess, and I'll forgive you," Clarke promises, looking into her eyes.

"Clarke, you don't need to do that," Josephine sighs. " I don't ever deserve to be forgiven. Not even by myself."

"I know what that's like," she admits softly. 

"How do you live with it?"

"Sometimes I think I should just dig a hole for myself and never come out again," Clarke says quietly. "But I think the better option is to just try and make up for it. Right a wrong, even if it won't take away what you've done before. It's—a tedious process, sometimes. Sometimes I feel like it won't make a difference if no one else forgives me. But I guess sometimes it's more important to seek your own forgiveness. I guess that's narcissistic in some situations, but in some cases..."

"I guess I understand," Josephine murmurs. "But it's hard to tell yourself that another person's forgiveness isn't as important as your own."

"Stop," Clarke says suddenly. She grabs Josephine's arm, pulling her behind a tree. "People are coming here," she whispers.

The two of them peek around the tree, waiting a good five minutes before spotting a group of people. They are dressed in tight, black clothing, all of them young yet intimidating. 

"How much time will it take to reach the border?" one of the men ask. His face is angular yet terribly handsome, framed by waves of brown hair. 

"Don't ask so many questions, Thomas," another man says, appearing to be the leader of the group. He looks just a few years older than the rest—closer to Clarke's age in the simulation.

"Don't speak to Tom that way," one of the women say in a lilting accent, her light blonde hair tied back, blue-gray eyes cold and piercing. 

"Being royalty does not earn him the right to be a pain in my ass," the older one says. "And I don't remember you having that right either, Sara."

"Max," Tom says, clearly unfazed by this whole exchange. "My mother's going to execute all of us if we don't return with Sanctum as part of the empire. I suggest we get started on that sooner rather than later instead of this useless bickering."

"Lead the way, little prince," Max scoffs. The group starts to make their way in the direction of the Sanctum border, and Clarke glances at Josephine.

"Do you know them?" she asks once those people leave.

Josephine nods, swallowing. "They're from a neighboring planet, almost all of it ruled by an empress. Thomas Palmier is the son of that empress, and Maxence Orwell commands the Royal Armies. Becca was right—they know that my father is no longer in power, so now they're looking to take our planet, Alpha, as one of its territories.

"Are they particularly violent people?" Clarke pushes.

"I don't know," says Josephine. "Tendencies change with the generations, I guess." She glances at Clarke. "We need to find another way to Sanctum. I don't want to risk running into them."

"Would you happen to know another way, then?"

She smiles. "What do you think?"

* * *

"The guards at the border will assess the situation," Bellamy tells the rest of them.

"Surveillance shows two people approaching the border," Raven reports.

"Wasn't it a group?" Emori asks.

"It was, but now we just see two women. And it's hard to compare the border surveillance to the drone surveillance, but I don't think they're part of that group."

Bellamy bites his lip. "We shouldn't let them in. Could be a trick."

"We should send someone down there to check it out," Miller suggests.

"Too risky," Niylah argues. "We'd have a bad situation on our hands if one of us ended up dead. I say we keep Sanctum closed."

"I guess that's it," Bellamy sighs, but he has this small feeling that it could—

_No. It couldn't be her._

"What do they look like?" he asks suddenly. "The women."

Raven looks slightly taken aback by the question. "I don't think that matters."

"It does," he murmurs. 

Raven shrugs. "Okay. One has reddish-brown hair and the other one has dark brown hair. She's really tall."

"Great job, Raven, I know exactly what they look like now," Murphy snickers.

"No, that's—that's all I needed to hear," Bellamy breathes. Echo shoots him a concerned glance, as if she knew what he was expecting. "Keep everything closed. I'll be right back," he adds quietly, exiting the old workshop.

_Couldn't be her._

_(a lot can happen in a month.)_

* * *

"Shit," Josephine says. _"Shit."_

"The city's on lockdown," Clarke realizes. "They must know about those people in the woods."

"There are guards around the perimeter," Josephine points out. 

"They won't let us in," Clarke groans, putting her hands on her hips and looking upward. "God. What now?"

Josephine squints into the distance, her expression of concern melting into one of pure shock. She starts to run towards the border, ignoring Clarke's warning hiss. She has no choice but to run after her, almost running into her when she stops abruptly.

"Who are you?" the guard asks. Clarke soon sees that it's not just anyone—it's Gabriel.

"I—" Josephine starts, but her words fade away into nothingness.

"We need your help," Clarke breathes. "There are people after us."

"The Empire of Haven," Josephine says. "They've come to take Sanctum."

Gabriel frowns. "How would you know that?"

"It's not important," Clarke cuts in sharply. "You have to let us in."

He shakes his head. "I can't do that."

"For god's sake, Gabe, let us in!" Josephine snaps, before pausing, her lips falling open.

Gabriel inhales sharply. "Josie?" he asks.

"Yes," she breathes, a beautiful smile blooming on her face. "Gabe..."

He looks behind him, making sure no one's there before going to the panel nearby. A strip of the pale, translucent shield between them fades away. "Come in. Make it quick."

* * *

Gabriel bites his lip, staring at the floor.

"Gabriel," Clarke says softly.

"I knew there was a reason it was there," he breathes. His gaze sharpens as he faces the two women again. "The others can't know, you realize that? They cannot know the truth."

"We can't afford to worry about their feelings right now—" Josie hisses.

"It's not that," Clarke says softly. "If they begin to show signs of knowing that none of this is real, the scientists will make it impossible to get out. We'll be stuck testing their predictions for humanity forever."

"Why'd you tell me then?" he asks.

"Becca made sure they weren't monitoring you in the first place because you did so much research on the anomaly she created," Josephine explains. "So we thought it was safe to tell you."

He sighs. "It's a bad time, Josie. You wanna transport all of Wonkru and Eligius to the Anomaly with the imminent threat of the Haven General? You're forgetting that they are under _orders_ to take this city."

"We're gonna have to figure something out, Gabe—" Josie starts, but falls silent as the door opens.

"Hey, Gabriel, Murphy went to your post—"

Clarke freezes as Bellamy's gaze falls on her. He doesn't look at her the way he normally does, his eyes sharp and calculating. "Who are you?" he asks.

"Cl-Clara," Clarke stutters. She never does that. "This is—"

"Brooke," Josephine blurts. 

"They're part of the Children," Gabriel says. "They know about the Anomaly."

At the mention of that, Bellamy's frown deepens. "The Anomaly?"

When Clarke stands, she's basically Bellamy's height—a disconcerting fact. "It's the only place we'll be safe."

"No," Bellamy says sharply. "That place is anything but safe."

"The Haven Empire has arrived from their planet to take Sanctum," Josephine tells him. 

"Yeah, Gabriel told m—how do you know that?" asks Bellamy.

"Gabriel told us, too," Clarke explains. 

"You can trust them, Bellamy," Gabriel murmurs.

"You want us to abandon Sanctum and have everyone go into the Anomaly to be _safer?_ What, we just give up on this place?"

"There's no _time,"_ Clarke implores. "In a week—"

"There won't be a Sanctum at the end of the week," Gabriel cuts in, glancing sideways at Clarke, silencing her. "The Haven people have weapons far beyond what Sanctum could ever develop. Plus, they've sent the commander of their armies. J—Brooke and Clara have seen them."

Bellamy meets Clarke's eyes, and she thinks she sees a flicker of recognition in his before he looks away, blinking. "Jesus," he mumbles. "Do you have any idea how long that's going to take?"

"The group has arrived at the border," a voice says from behind Bellamy. Raven. "We need to meet with them."

"Okay. Gabriel, let's go," Bellamy sighs, running a hand over his unshaven face. Clarke knows firsthand now what it's like to hold his face in her hands, and she aches to do it again. She leans forward as if she might follow Gabriel and Bellamy, but stops. He turns back to look at her, his warm brown eyes searching hers as his throat bobs. "Thank you for the information, Clara."

_Clarke. My name is Clarke._

* * *

Something about the women doesn't sit well with Bellamy.

_Clara._

It isn't really that big of a deal that her name is really similar to Clarke's, but her eyes—

_(i can't go back there)_

Her eyes seem to be an exact copy of Clarke's. The only physical feature that Clara shares with Clarke, and yet—

_(i can't go back there.)_

Bellamy shakes his head swallowing. Gabriel seems to notice the stiffness of his attitude, so he steps up to the border. "State your names!" he orders.

"General Maxence Orwell," the man with skin the color of freshly tilled soil declares, pointing at himself. "Prince Thomas Palmier, heir to the Haven Empire. Lieutenant General Sara Ronacher."

"And the others," Gabriel says, keeping his hand firmly on the gun at his side.

"The prince's guards."

"What do you want?"

"We—" the blonde one, Sara, begins to say, but the prince cuts her off. "We've come to negotiate," he says, causing the generals to look at him in disbelief. "It's come to our knowledge that you guys are going to have a little bit of a power issue after a while. We'd like to discuss things, if that's okay with you."

"And what if it isn't okay with us?" Bellamy asks.

"Then you'll see exactly what happens when diplomacy fails," Sara says. Her accent might've made her sound sweet, if her tone wasn't so threatening.

"Sara," Thomas murmurs quietly, causing her face to soften just slightly. "Look," he says, facing Gabriel and Bellamy again, "we don't want to make this any harder than it has to be for either of us." The two generals simultaneously glance sideways at the prince, looking as if they're assessing a threat. He looks at between the two of them, frowning. Gabriel raises his eyebrows at Bellamy, conveying an unsaid message; _we have to see._

"Okay," Bellamy says quietly. "But just the three of you. Leave the prince's guards outside."

Sara laughs; another sound not quite as lovely as he might've expected it to be. "And leave him unprotected?"

"He will be with two apparently skilled generals," Gabriel states. "I'd say _we're_ the ones without protection."

Sara smiles slightly at that. "Fine. Let us in."

Gabriel begins to fiddle with the nearby panel, bringing the shield down. The prince watches with a childlike curiosity, although there's the cold hidden in his eyes. Bellamy's glad he had the guards inside Sanctum itself arm themselves.

Perhaps it won't be a big deal. They'll figure something out, and Bellamy will be out of here in a month. Twenty-seven more days.

_(a lot can happen in a month.)_

* * *

"What's going on?" Josie asks Gabriel once he reenters the room he's told them to stay in.

"Bellamy's speaking with the Haven people right now," he mutters.

Clarke frowns. "Did you not tell him about the threat they pose to Sanctum?"

"The prince seems keen on establishing a diplomatic relationship with us."

"There's no way we can know that for sure, Gabe, and you know that," Josephine counters.

"Well, they're just having a conversation now," he replies, rubbing his forehead. "And I guess we'll see how that goes."

"Or," Clarke says softly, "we could try something else."

* * *

"Looks like you've become familiar with the place," the general says to Bellamy. "For having arrived such a short time ago."

"We have to be," Bellamy sighs, crossing his legs to avoid squirming uncomfortably in his seat. He looks at Thomas. "What will it be, Thomas?"

"You will address him with his royal title," Sara snaps.

"Just call me Tom," the prince sighs, frowning slightly at her. "I—"

"Thomas Palmier," a voice says, and Bellamy turns to see the redhead from the border walk in, most definitely wearing Josephine Lightbourne's clothing. Gabriel follows, his face impassive. "I never thought I'd see you here."

"Josephine," Sara says, leaning back in her chair and putting her feet up on the table. "We heard you were dead."

"Death doesn't exist for the rulers of Sanctum," she says, waving a hand. The gesture is eerily similar to Josephine's attitude, and Bellamy glances at Gabriel for an explanation. He raises his eyebrows as an answer, warning Bellamy to go along.

"So Russell and Simone Lightbourne have been removed from power; who made you in charge?" Maxence asks, scowling.

"Do you really think they were stupid enough to not plan for this sort of thing?" the girl—Brooke—hisses. "My parents were proud, not arrogant and idiotic fools."

Tom continues to stare at her, a vague frown etched into his face.

"Anyways," Brooke continues, "what is it that you've come for?"

"You've bitten off more than you can chew, Lightbourne," Sara says softly. "Haven will help with that."

"You're not offering any sort of support, Lieutenant General," Brooke says with a laugh. "You want to take Sanctum as one of your territories, and you aren't afraid to do it with any amount of force necessary."

"We're willing to avoid that," Tom says quickly before Sara can answer. "You're right—we do want to take Sanctum. Not as something as menial as a territory—a city-state, really. You'll have complete freedom designing your government and your place, just as long as it doesn't involve genocide, slavery, or dictatorship of any kind."

"The last time I had any sort of dealings with the Haven people, they turned out to be dirty liars," Brooke drawls, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. There's something so horribly familiar about that one action that makes Bellamy want to throw up. "I don't trust you."

"Josephine," Tom says softly, biting his lip. "I already told you. Not a lot is going to change. You'll be independent, but also a part of Haven. You have my word, as heir to the empire."

"Too bad I don't know how good you'll be," Brooke sighs, licking her lips in a predatory manner. Sara's jaw clenches; a bad sign. The last thing they should do is provoke the lieutenant general. "But I guess I'll just have to wait and see," she continues, evidently having made the same realization as Bellamy. "Fine. But as long as you are here, you'll abide by our laws, stay where we need you to stay. Understand?"

Orwell opens his mouth to protest, but Tom nods. "Sure."

"Good," Brooke breathes, finally seeming to lose a fraction of her composure to relief. "Gabriel will show you to your quarters."

The Haven people stand, going to follow Gabriel into an adjoining corridor, and the other woman, Clara enters the room, rubbing her forehead.

"How'd you do that?" Bellamy asks.

Brooke glances sideways at nothing. "I knew Josephine a long time ago. And I'm a very good actress."

The explanation doesn't seem all too genuine, but he doesn't push. He glances at Clara, who surveys them with her glittering eyes. Eyes that he can't even stand to look at for too long.

_(standing on the beach. her hair's messy)_

_(and long)_

_(probably because of the wind.)_

"We need to start thinking long-term," Clara says in that soft voice of hers. "Start thinking about how we'll get everyone to the Anomaly."

"Didn't they just agree to not launch an attack?"

"The Empire has a long history of going back on their word," Brooke murmurs. "We need to start as soon as possible."

Bellamy looks to Clara. "How do you think we'll manage that?"

She looks mildly surprised that he spoke to her. "Take them in groups. The last people to go will be the people guarding the city." She watches him rise from his seat, doesn't back away. Their eyes are level, some heavy, crackling silence settling between them. "But we have to be discreet about it," she adds, looking away. 

"Okay," Bellamy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll start gathering people."

"No!" Brooke exclaims. "G-Gabriel can do it."

Bellamy frowns. "Why not me?"

"We think it's best if you handle the Haven people for now," Clara says, crossing her arms. "We'll take care of it."

"Okay," he concedes. "Get it started."

* * *

"He doesn't know what he's talking about," a hushed voice says from inside the room. Sara. "Look, Max—I love him, but he's in way over his head right now. There's no way we can do this without mass casualties."

"Tom has a point," Maxence says quietly. Clarke's heart begins to pound. "The Empress did just want Sanctum as one of her territories."

"You and I _clearly_ received very different instructions," Sara hisses. "She wants this place gone, and she wants to rebuild it the way she wants to. We have to launch an attack _now."_

There's a pause, and Clarke holds her breath, pressing her body to the wall.

"Tom will never forgive you. He's a good kid. And so are you."

"Being good won't get us anywhere in this world," Sara says softly enough that Clarke almost can't hear her. "Max, we can't waste any time. We have to go on the offensive now." She hears footsteps, and she jumps walking the opposite way as soon as possible.

"Hey!" Sara calls from behind Clarke. "Turn around."

Clarke laughs softly. "Nobody will follow your orders here, Lieutenant-General."

"What did you hear?" Sara continues.

Clarke frowns. "Nothing of interest."

She continues walking, her heartbeat echoing in her ears when she fears strong arms pull her backwards and shove her to the ground.

"I should've realized earlier," Sara snarls, hovering over Clarke. "That you were outside the whole time."

"And I should've realized that you were going to be a backstabbing bi—"

Sara slaps her, as hard as she can, and Clarke lunges up, punching Sara in the face. She tries desperately to grab the knife at the general's belt, and almost gets it—until she feels another arm pulling her hand back roughly. Something sharp slides along her cheekbone, and Clarke bites back the urge to yelp in pain.

Max wraps his hands around her throat, and she opens her mouth to scream, but no noise comes out. Now that her hand is free again, she slides along the floor, accidentally grabbing the blade itself. Sharp, searing pain explodes in her hand, the wetness of blood sliding along her fingers like a hundred gleaming rings. She moves her hand to the hilt and brings the knife up, feeling it slam into Max's neck. Sara screams, and Clarke clocks her in the head with the hilt, knocking her out. She shoves the two bodies off of herself, and she starts to run.

* * *

She still has memories of the things in Josephine's room, hidden away in the drawers. She finds bandages, shaking as she tries to wrap her left hand.

"Why are you in here—oh, Jesus," Bellamy mutters, walking towards her. "What happened?"

"Sara and Max," Clarke splutters, trying to focus on the bandage. She had forgotten how bad she was at treating her own injuries with her non-dominant hand. "I—I killed Max. But Sara's got orders to launch a full offensive on Sanctum. She'll be waking up soon—fuck, I left her right there—"

"Do you need help?" Bellamy asks. "You're having some trouble there."

"I'm left-handed," she mutters, and she feels him go still beside her. "What?" she snaps.

"I—I just knew someone else who was left-handed," he says softly.

"It's not that rare, Bellamy," Clarke sighs. "Can you help me?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," he mumbles, reaching forward. Every point of contact makes Clarke's blood sing, pure relief almost driving away the pain. Her blood gets all over his hands, but he doesn't seem fazed.

"A lot can happen in a month," she finds herself murmuring softly. He looks up abruptly, his eyebrows drawn together. "Why would you say that?" he asks, breathing just slightly shaky.

 _Why_ would _you say something that stupid?_

"It's true, isn't it?" she says, holding his gaze. "It doesn't take a large amount of time for big things to happen." They stare at each other in silence until Bellamy's finished wrapping her hand, with him being surprisingly better at it than he was back on Earth. She almost says so, before remembering the reality of the situation. Clarke hastily pulls away when he's done, ignoring the way she still wanted her hands to be within his, ignoring the way he still doesn't quite look at her the way he normally does. She goes to exit the room, but Bellamy stops her.

"Clara," he says, "wait."

_(god please just call me Clarke PLEASE)_

"What?" she asks.

"The one on your face," he says. "It needs to be stitched."

"It can wait—"

"We don't want it getting infected, do we?" he asks, reaching into the medkit. He looks back at her. "It's going to scar."

"Do you even know how to stitch?" Clarke asks.

"I can sew. And I'm sure you can help me through it, can't you?"

She pauses. A trick. He's trying, probing, digging farther than he should.

It would be too easy to tell him the truth.

"I don't have much experience," Clarke lies, heart sinking at the way the mild anticipation in his eyes dies down. "But I have stitched my own wounds before," she lets herself admit, swallowing. "I'm not very good at it, though."

"Okay," he says, once she sits down. "We have to be quick about it."

"No time," Gabriel says, walking in, quickly glancing at Clarke. "You're going to have to risk infection. Nobody knows where Sara is."

Clarke looks at Bellamy. "We need to move now."

* * *

It's a bad idea, but they quickly abandon the attempt to keep the evacuation secret. Josephine takes point on leading the groups to the Anomaly, one by one.

"They might trap us here forever," Clarke says softly to Gabriel.

"Better than being stuck in this city and getting obliterated. We have to assume Sara's made contact with the people up on her ship."

"I just hope Becca can hold the Anomaly open long enough for us to make it out. Plus, if we don't get obliterated in Sanctum we'll just be obliterated somewhere else."

"Aren't you optimistic," Gabriel mutters. 

Clarke doesn't answer. She longs for the beach, the sand beneath her toes and the endless quiet. 

She wishes the others could've come with her—Finn, Lincoln, Lexa. Some reminder that the world out there had been real, that Clarke would have an opportunity to live.

_(worth it if no one will ever hurt me again.)_

The cuts on her palm and face sting a little more at that thought.

"Emori, Echo, and Raven are taking groups as well to speed up the process," Gabriel informs her. "Josie's doing beautifully with it, but even she can't manage all of that."

"How many people left?" she asks him.

"Groups are fairly large, so—maybe thirty more people. 

"That's one group," Clarke says. "And then us, and the guards on the border."

"Yeah," Gabriel says, glancing sideways. "Think we can pull it off?"

"There's no alternative," Clarke answers.

* * *

One would think that he's used to the paranoia.

But after just a few days out in the real world, Bellamy's not used to the nauseating, earth-shattering anxiety that builds up in his chest as he waits for Sara to do something. He doesn't know where Tom is, either, which leads him to believe that Sara either killed him, or he's part of the attack.

The evacuation goes relatively smoothly—too smoothly for Bellamy's liking. It happens in a matter of two hours, and Brooke returns with the others.

"Are they all inside?" he asks.

"Yeah," Echo murmurs. Her cheeks are flushed, dark spots on her cheeks now that she's a nightblood. "Took some convincing, but Brooke is very persuasive."

There's a distant boom outside, and Clara bursts in. "They're bombing the city," she reports, panting. "We have to leave, now."

* * *

_(almost.)_

_(we're almost there)_

Clarke's heart is in her throat as she runs through the woods, Josephine and Bellamy following close behind. She follows Gabriel, the only one who knows his way through the woods in the darkness. They'd left plumes of fire, the buildings of Sanctum nothing but blazing pillars of flame.

She trips on something—a vine, a rock, something. Josie reaches for her, but Clarke scrambles upright, shooing her away. "Go!" she yells, shoving Bellamy forward with one hand as she tries to disentangle her ankle with the other.

_(almost)_

The people she had been running with are almost out of sight by the time she can get to her feet again. She starts running, following the flattened leaves, running right into someone.

Tom.

They freeze, a gun in his hand.

"Tom," she breathes. "Tom, get out of my way."

"It's kind of nice, isn't it?" he says softly, walking towards her, gun still pointing at the ground. For some reason, Clarke doesn't back away. He walks past her, facing Sanctum, and slowly, she turns to do the same.

"I didn't want it to happen," he continues. "I'm sorry."

"Sara was under orders from your mother."

Another bomb. She can see the treeline around Sanctum dissolve into flame.

"I dreamed of a better world," he tells her. 

"Come with me," Clarke says suddenly. "We're going there."

Tom shakes his head. "I have to take responsibility. I have to own up to what I should believe in."

He glances down at his gun. He really is beautiful—not in the way Bellamy is, but in a softer way, despite the sharpness of his features. The gun shines in the distant light, and Clarke steps back.

Tom drops it on the ground, his seemingly multicolored eyes shining in the light of the fire behind them. "Go," he says. "Go now."

Clarke does the only thing she can think of—she reaches forward and wraps him in the quickest embrace before letting go. "Thank you," she calls back, as she runs back home.

* * *

It's there. That mesmerizing wall of green light.

"In there?" Raven asks.

"Yeah," Bellamy breathes. Home. Clarke. 

He runs, letting the warmth swallow him, letting everything else wash away, the scars, the age, the image of the fire burned into the backs of his eyelids.

He thinks he hears Echo and Raven yell in surprise, in fear.

_Home._

_(i can't go back)_

He closes his eyes.

* * *

She sees the last of the guards disappear into the Anomaly a few minutes before she reaches it. The green light is almost too bright to look at, and she almost doesn't want to approach it.

 _It won't be like last time,_ she tells herself. 

_(we're cursed.)_

Clarke steps closer to it.

_(we're cursed.)_

Voices—soft and varied, reach her eyes from the blazing oblivion she stares into, light so bright that it's a pure, blank white.

She extends her hand, lets her fingers disappear into the swirling tendrils.

_(come home, clarke, please, come home.)_

She lets herself fall into it, that endless light, hears the sounds fade away, silence settling into her bones. She waits, waits to wake up in that bed, waits to see Becca standing over her. The white dissolves into pure darkness, everything a black void except for the faint light surrounding her body.

And then she falls.

It's endless, that act of her body tumbling backwards, and she opens her mouth to say something anything—

_(happy birthday! i got a cake for you.)_

_(mom's at work, but she's coming home to eat dinner tonight.)_

_(how many times are you and your dad gonna watch the same match, clarke?)_

_(shut up, wells.)_

_(toxic)_

_(treason.)_

_(i love you, kiddo.)_

_(haven't seen anyone in weeks.)_

_(all dead anyway.)_

Falling.

_(i need you.)_

_(we make the rules.)_

_(together?)_

_(i did it for you.)_

_(thanks, princess.)_

_(blood must have blood.)_

_(where is he?)_

_(have you made contact with bellamy?)_

_(i'm not going in.)_

Falling.

_(lexa, i—")_

_(you left me.)_

_(yu gonplei ste odon.)_

_(city of light—)_

_(i wish i was dead.)_

_(if i'm on that list, you're on that list.)_

_(she'll come around and see how special you are.)_

_(forgive me.)_

_(i love you, i want to say i love you.)_

_(hurry.)_

_(tell me another story, klark.)_

_(they're coming back, madi. and one day you can ask them all your questions.)_

_(her. why is he with her?)_

_(what did i do?)_

_(what have i done?)_

_(not again.)_

_(it's a new beginning, clarke.)_

_(be the good guys.)_

_(i can't forgive you.)_

_(just as bad as her.)_

_(paralyzed and alone.)_

_(i am going to die.)_

_(you forgot bellamy and raven.)_

_(come back.)_

Falling.

* * *

"Hi."

"Finn," she chokes out, before turning her body to vomit on the floor beside the pod.

"Well, thank you for not doing it on me," he says. "And thank god your hair was in a braid."

"Help me up," she commands, and he reaches forward place his hands behind her shoulders, steadying her as she rises. "What's going on?"

"Becca's getting yelled at by the head scientist," Finn sighs. "They aren't happy about what happened. But now that everyone's out of the simulation, they have no choice but to let you all go. Turns out this Josephine Lightbourne chick is great at negotiation. I kind of like her, even though she stole your body and all that."

"Thank you for that assessment, Finn," Clarke groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. "So what now?"

"Everyone that got pulled out was given the choice of whether they wanted their old residence or whether they wanted to move that community you and I live in. A lot of them went back, but most of the people moved to that community. Everyone is being financially compensated, and—you have full custody of Madi."

Clarke frowns. "How long was I out?"

"A few hours."

"And that all happened in a few hours?"

"Life moves fast around here sometimes."

Finn helps her off the pod. "Can you walk?"

"I think so."

"Okay," he says, patting her shoulder. "What now?"

Clarke swallows. "I—"

"Clarke," Becca says, walking in. Raven follows, and she freezes when she sees Finn.

"Oh, shit," Finn mumbles quietly. Clarke doesn't even have the energy to laugh or tell him to shut up.

"Are you okay?" Becca asks.

"Fine," Clarke lies. "Where's Bellamy?"

"That's what I'm here for," Becca states. "He wants to see you."

"I'm coming, too," Finn says immediately, but Raven shakes her head. 

"No," she says. "I need your help with something."

Finn sighs, and pats Clarke on the back again. "Okay. Use protection."

"Move," Clarke mutters, elbowing him in the ribs as Becca takes her hand.

"You ready?" Becca asks her.

"Yes," Clarke breathes. "I am."

* * *

"Bellamy. _Bellamy."_

Becca's shaking him.

_"Bellamy."_

He opens his eyes.

"I—Becca," he stutters. "Did—are—is it over?"

"You got everyone out," she says softly. "You got them out a few hours ago."

"Hours?"

"Yeah."

He sits up, slowly. He's in what seems to be a hospital room. "Where's Clarke?" he asks.

Becca smiles softly. "She's here to see you."

She leaves the room, and Clarke comes in shortly after.

"Clarke," he breathes, smiling slightly. "God, I—"

"I know," she says softly, coming to sit on his bed.

"There were two women," he says quietly. "They saved us. Nobody could've gotten out if they hadn't shown up."

"I know," she says, running her hands through his hair.

"Clara," Bellamy breathes, remembering her eyes. "She—"

"Is me," Clarke mumbles. "And Brooke was—"

"Josephine," Bellamy finishes, realization hitting him with the force of a truck. "Her? I—I should've known, she had your eyes, and she was left-handed—"

"If you found out earlier then they would've known that Becca put me and Josephine in, and they would've kept us in there forever."

He reaches up to touch her face, the spot on her cheek where that cut should've been. "No scar," he observes.

"No scar," she agrees.

"I don't ever want to leave you again," Bellamy breathes.

Clarke leans forward, kissing him softly.

"The others," he murmurs when she pulls away. "This new life, the adjustment—the others, they still think you're dead, they still haven't forgiven you—"

"It's okay," Clarke says, kissing his forehead. "We can figure it out another time."

* * *

**two weeks later**

Madi's asleep in her bedroom when Clarke wakes up. She gets ready for the day slowly, with a leisureliness she hasn't enjoyed since her days alone with Madi after Praimfaya. 

The walk to the beach is cold—it had probably rained overnight. She walks on anyway, not going back to take a jacket. She enjoys the feel of the cold wind moving through her, a reminder that she is here.

There's too much to be done, too much to be resolved. Many wounds to look at, many relationships left hanging in the balance. But she has time.

"Thought I'd find you here," Bellamy says from behind her, a few minutes after she reaches the beach. He comes closer, running his hands up and down her arms. "You're shivering."

"It's kind of nice," she counters.

He laughs slightly, reaching forward to hug her. "Better?"

"I never thought you were this much of a romantic," she mutters, burying her face in his shoulder. She'd have enough time to look at the ocean later.

"Shoulda known as soon as I started calling you Princess, Princess," he mutters, putting his nose in her hair.

"I love you," she says.

There's a slight pause. "I love you, too," Bellamy responds after a minute, his voice heavy with emotion.

"Are you crying?"

He pulls away to smile at her, revealing the tears hanging off his eyelashes. "Happy tears," he says.

"I thought happy tears were a myth," she admits, smiling a little to herself. "I didn't think anyone could possibly _that_ happy."

"I am," he says. "I'm with you."

She leans up to kiss him, long and hard and unhurried. She doesn't kiss him like it's the end of the world, because it's not.

Besides, she'd have plenty of time to do that later.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. i honestly couldnt just leave this where it was at the end of before, after, between. So here's an annoying sequel with a plot other than clarke's well-deserved happiness. sorry. I did actually consider publishing something like that; in fact, i have it written. let me know if you'd rather read that than accept this as the next installment in this series.  
> 2\. i 100% meant for tom and sara to completely look exactly like timothee chalamet and saoirse ronan. sue me. josephine and clarke's appearances were based loosely off of lily collins as clary fray and anne hathaway, respectively.  
> comments and kudos are big brain!!!!


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